To a disassembled mess, she came for help, with her skull melting away on a rainy dusk. He was slick and keen, he took her in with no idea of what she would bring in. The rebel in him enriched, curiosity in him pricked to make her the decent art in the town. He collected twigs and crumbles to fill the gaps and to give her the shape she had lost on the way to find his place. He had practiced day and night to decipher her components, crafted some duplicates of her to bring her back to her form.
He broke his parts to assemble himself back as he brought some beauty to her eyes. Efficiency was born in his acts and she brought to the surface, the hidden art slumbering in him. He built her with his sweat, in return, she pumped some life into him.
Every time he looked at her, he would touch her hard skin. Mixture of emotions would burst inside, in the attempt to interpret the expressions of her. He gave birth to even more of her, with clay and moisture. And dwelled as one of her kinds among the arts at the mercy of her.
One day, flipping through the catalog of his works, his hands had stopped. He looked back at his useless self taking her in and her arrival seemed to be a dawn in his dusky life. No matter what others had thought, he knew very well that he was the one who got fixed. He stood up in front of her, with a smile, he said how grateful he had been. And to his surprise, he recognized the expression in her face, she had been showing all these years, her voice made it crystal clear.
"I'm so proud of you.", she smiled. He brought himself to hold her hand one more time, only to find himself dissolving as fragments, into the air. And his tears dissolving her once again, she was taken in by another clumsy teenager in his rebellious age.
